


he is the wild bunch

by liketheroad



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/pseuds/liketheroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Distantly, Eames can almost appreciate that he’s being fought over, ridiculous as that sounds, given that Arthur is involved, given that One Two never really wanted him anyway.  But there’s too much at stake to have any real fun with it.</i> (Handsome Bob!Eames)</p>
            </blockquote>





	he is the wild bunch

**Arthur;**

Eames’ cellphone blares, echoing obtrusively in the quiet of the warehouse.

Arthur glares at him a little, mostly on principle, and Eames holds up two fingers, smiling sweetly. Arthur rolls his eyes and turns back to his research.

He looks up again when he hears something strange come into Eames’ voice, watching a dark look skitter across his face. As the conversation continues, the tightness around Eames’ eyes lessens, his accent seeming to change as he speaks.

By the time he hangs up, he’s laughing. It makes him look ten years younger.

Arthur doesn’t bother to hide the way he’s staring.

“Apologies, but I’m afraid I have to pop for a couple days,” Eames announces, putting his phone back in his jacket pocket.

“Are you serious?” Arthur demands hotly. “We’re right in the middle of a job!”

This isn’t strictly true. They’re in the middle of _choosing_ their next job.

Eames points this out, eyeing Arthur impassively. “We’ve got nothing solid, and picking between corporate espionage and _more_ corporate espionage can wait a few days.”

Arthur doesn’t know how to express that exchanging sarcastic remarks and backhanded compliments with Eames is essential to his process without sounding, well, ridiculous, so he just says, “What’s so important that you have to leave at a moment’s notice?”

The odd, pinched look returns to Eames’ face, just for a moment. “An old friend just got back into contact. He needs a word.”

“A friend?” Arthur repeats dubiously.

Eames smiles. “Yes, Arthur. A friend. You remember. That’s someone you care about and whose company you enjoy in a non-professional capacity.”

Arthur can practically hear Cobb smirking, somewhere behind him. He sighs.

“Fine. Just be back before Wednesday,” he orders, using his “intimidation” voice.

Eames smiles like Arthur is adorable, which is exactly their problem, and always has been, and says, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

There’s something bizarrely sincere, almost tender, in his voice, but he’s gone before Arthur can respond.

The warehouse feels a lot emptier without Eames in it, but Arthur pushes the thought away and goes back to work.

 **Eames;**

One Two is waiting for him in the lobby when Eames gets to his hotel.

They shake hands awkwardly. Maybe they should have put this off for full decade instead of just the half.

“It’s good to see ya,” One Two says, and Eames can see he even means it.

“Yeah,” he nods.

They go up to Eames’ room, he locks the door behind them.

“What’s this about?” he asks as soon as they’re inside.

One Two looks a little surprised they’re skipping straight over the pleasantries, but Eames doesn’t have time for friendly catch-up. One Two called, said it was important. That’s enough for Eames, but that’s all this is.

“You said you needed my help, here I am. So what’s happened?”

“It’s Mumbles,” One Two answers, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “He got into bed with some fucking serious people, way above our pay grade. He’s been making it work, but he fucked up the last job and now they want him dead. I think they probably always did, the screw up was just a good excuse.”

Eames pinches the bridge of his nose. “Which people, mate? What was the job? I need some actual details, here.”

One Two smiles, surprised again. “You’re different,” he remarks, almost wonderingly.

Eames really doesn’t have time for this. “We can compare scars and discuss our personal growth later, One Two. Tell me about Mumbles. What’s so big you can’t do this on your own? Why contact me, after all this time?”

“I hear things, you know. About you. What you’re doing these days. The people you work with. You’ve seriously moved up in the world, Bobby.”

“It’s just Eames now,” he says, needing to get that out of the way.

One Two raises his eyebrows comically. “Eames? Where’d you come up with that?”

“It’s my mother’s name,” he explains shortly. He’s never told anyone that. He’d expected it to be easier than this. Easier to keep up his defenses.

No such luck, apparently.

“Why’d you stop going by Handsome Bob, that’s who you are!” One Two protests.

Eames shakes his head. “It’s who I was.”

One Two sighs sadly. “Is that my fault, then?”

“Not everything is about you,” Eames contradicts quietly.

“Alright. Eames,” he says slowly, testing it out.

“Thank you. Now, these people Mumbles is mixed up with. I assume they’re local?” Meaning the London underground, Eames’ childhood playground, his wild, foolish youth.

“Big guns, though,” One Two says, nodding. “They’ve got connections across the EU. I only know a few names, mostly the street level thugs that have come knocking on his door. But the leader’s name is Marcus.”

“Marcus? That’s all you’ve got? The first name of who you _think_ might be the boss and maybe some faces to put to some small time names? Jesus.”

Maybe it’s just that all the years working with Arthur have spoiled him, but Eames is appalled, remembering the days when he was willing to operate with such amateur hour intel.

“We hoped you could help with that, you know. Get more information. Isn’t that what you do?”

“It’s part of it,” Eames concedes, walking to the window and looking out at the city balefully. “But even if I could get you the information, what are you proposing to do with it?”

“Well jeez, Bob. I don’t know. Blackmail them? Get them off Mumbles’ back? There has to be something we can use as leverage.”

“Eames,” he repeats, his hands clenching into fists inside his pockets.

“Right, sorry.”

“Listen, I’ll need to talk this over with my team. I’ll try and help, but I can’t promise anything more than that. And this kind of job, it can’t be done alone.”

“But won’t your crew help you, if you explain it’s important?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s a lot of risk, little payoff.”

“But it’s for you! Do you not help each other?”

Eames smiles, pained. “It’s not how it was in the old days. We’re colleagues, not mates.”

“Colleagues? You?”

This time, Eames’ smile is simple, free of the bitterness of the past.

“I am the height of professionalism.”

One Two laughs, and for that one second, it feels just like old times.

 **Arthur;**

Eames comes back to the warehouse two days later, and his “friend” is with him.

He’s a rough and tumble Scotsman, someone who looks like he’d be most at home in a bar fight or a back alley poker game. He loiters at Eames’ side like he belongs there.

Arthur dislikes him instantly.

“This is One Two,” Eames introduces him, waving around the warehouse. “And these are my colleagues.”

Ariadne mouths “colleagues” like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard; even Arthur lets himself smirk, just for a second.

It hasn’t escaped his notice that Eames hasn’t given this One Two any of their names. He looks like he’s sorry he even had to bring him.

 _Good_ , Arthur thinks rather viciously.

Still, he steps forward, extending a reluctant hand to Eames’ friend.

“Arthur,” he offers curtly.

One Two shakes Arthur’s proffered had. It’s a good, firm handshake. It doesn’t make Arthur dislike him any less.

“Ariadne,” she says, getting up and shaking his hand too.

Yusuf just waves from behind his make-shift lab table, and Cobb is in his office, talking to his children, so that about does it for introductions.

“Eames said you have a mutual friend who’s in trouble, and you want us to find out more about who he’s in trouble with?” Arthur prompts, trying to move things along.

Eames’ call the night before had been frustratingly lacking in specificity, but he’d seemed as bothered by that as Arthur was, which had mollified Arthur somewhat.

One Two nods. “He was working as a driver, mostly. Sometimes he’d actually be in charge of a buy, but mostly he just drove the people who were. Last job, he got there too late, the buyers were pissed, so they shot his partner and took the cash and the drugs.”

Arthur looks at Eames disapprovingly. “Drugs?”

Eames shrugs. “And guns, I’d imagine.”

Arthur makes a face, which Eames rolls his eyes at. “Don’t act so delicate, darling. I’ve seen you shoot at more than projections.”

Arthur concedes the point with a quirk of his mouth, and Eames answers with an indulgent smile.

For a second, Arthur is able to forget about the stranger at Eames’ side.

That is, until he says, “Are you two shagging, then?”

Arthur’s eyes widen, and he can feel his ears going hot and pink.

Eames coughs. “No, just colleagues. As I said.”

This One Two looks skeptical, putting an arm around Eames’ shoulders. “I see your type has changed, Bobby boy.”

Eames’ tenses, if only around the eyes. He steps out of One Two’s reach as soon as it’s possible to do so without making a fuss.

For an absurd moment, Arthur wants to go and stand between them.

“Um, guys?” Ariadne pipes up. “The job?”

Arthur could kiss her.

They spend the next hour fighting to get something useful out of One Two, and Arthur does his best to ignore the looks the other man gives him whenever Arthur and Eames make eye contact or stray closer together as they speak.

By the time One Two has told them everything he knows, Arthur has a headache. He must be pretty obvious about it, too, because a few minutes into the worst of it, Eames comes over to him, laying a hand against the base of Arthur’s neck, rubbing soothing circles into Arthur’s skin with his thumb.

Arthur barely contains a grateful moan.

As usual, everyone ignores this type of behavior, a norm with them, or at least what has become one, in the months following inception. Arthur isn’t inviting, exactly, with Eames, but he’s stopped offering more than the most token protests. He tries not to think too hard about where that actually leaves them, since Eames has seemed content not to push, now that Arthur has finally started to let him in.

Mostly, Arthur ignores the lingering heat between them, the intimacy, growing by inches, and so does everyone else.

Everyone, that is, except for One Two. He laughs and mumbles something that sounds disturbingly like, “Atta boy, Bobby.”

Eames stops touching Arthur as soon as One Two speaks.

Until then, Arthur wasn’t even sure he was going to take this job. But the way One Two is leering at Eames decides it.

He’ll take the job, do whatever it takes. Anything to get One Two out of Eames’ life for good.

 **Eames;**

Eames wishes he could enjoy it more. The way Arthur bristles at the very sight of One Two, the way his teasing insinuations make Arthur step possessively into Eames’ personal space instead of backing further away from him.

Distantly, he can almost appreciate that he’s being fought over, ridiculous as that sounds, given that Arthur is involved, given that One Two never really wanted him anyway. But there’s too much at stake to have any real fun with it.

Mumbles is in serious shit, and it doesn’t matter that Eames hasn’t seen him in almost six years, doesn’t matter that when Eames left, when things fell apart, Mumbles stayed with One Two, chose him, that life.

Working with friends is rubbish, his days in the wild bunch taught Eames that much.

But still, he can’t turn his back on them, not completely.

And once the job is one, once One Two is gone again, Arthur will probably go back to normal, back to his buttoned up shirts and buttoned up heart.

It’s fine. Eames isn’t as young as he used to be. He knows not to hope for things he can’t have.

Not anymore.

 **Arthur;**

At the end of the day, Eames and One Two leave the warehouse together. Arthur struggles to keep his displeasure regarding this turn of events off his face.

From the way Ariadne touches his elbow, giving him a light squeeze as she passes on her way out, he doesn’t think he succeeds. He ignores the look she gives him, sympathetic and kind.

Dom is harder to ignore, the way he lingers conspicuously until they’re the only ones left, not rushing out to get home to his children like he normally does. Living in Paris has agreed with the whole Cobb family, but Dom is still anxious, at the end of each and every day, like he’s still a little afraid one of these times, he’s not going to be allowed to go home.

So his continued presence in the warehouse is decidedly suspicious, and Arthur knows he’s not going to be able to avoid a conversation, probably complete with fatherly advice.

He sighs, bracing himself, and says, “What?” just wanting to get it over with.

The look Dom gives him is disproportionally concerned. Arthur bristles, but keeps his mouth shut, waiting.

“Are you okay?” Dom asks eventually.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dom shrugs.

“I’m fine.” Arthur assures him tersely.

Not even pretending to be convinced, Dom says, “If it helps, I don’t think there’s anything going on between them. A long time ago, maybe. But not anymore.”

“Why would that - why would I even--” Arthur sputters indignantly, until Dom’s smarmy look shuts him up and he settles for glaring darkly.

“Poor Arthur,” Dom says fondly, making Arthur glare even harder. “You never did like to share your things.”

“Eames isn’t...” Arthur trails off, at a loss, until he finally forces himself to say, “mine.”

Dom just smiles, a little sadly.

“Maybe not. But you want him to be.”

There isn’t anything Arthur can say to that, at least not anything that wouldn’t sound hopelessly hollow, especially to his own ears.

So he says nothing at all, and eventually, Dom gets up, putting on his coat.

Just before he leaves, he looks back at Arthur and says, “Get some rest, Arthur,” in a patient, easy way that reminds Arthur why he bothers to keep Dom around, even if he is a half-insane pain in Arthur’s ass.

He smiles, just a little. “Night, Dom.”

Dom closes the door behind him softly, and Arthur sits alone in the darkened warehouse for a very long time.

 **Eames;**

“He fancies you, you know.” One Two points out as soon as they get back to what has become _their_ hotel room.

“He thinks he does,” Eames corrects.

“What, you mean like me?”

Eames sighs. “Yeah, I mean like you.”

One Two comes up closer to him, giving Eames a surprisingly knowing look. He’s forgotten that the other man could, on rare occasion, be quite insightful.

Always at the most inconvenient times, of course.

“You’re not always going to let that stop you, are you? I feel bad enough as it is.”

“I’m terribly sorry your guilt is still bothering you,” Eames says rather sarcastically.

“I worry about you, you know. Even now. We all miss you, think about you. It’s not been the same since you left.”

“That was a long time ago. I’m sure you’ve had ample time to adjust.”

“We have, but that doesn’t mean we don’t remember how it used to be.” Suddenly, One Two’s hand is on Eames’ chest. “It doesn’t mean I don’t remember.”

“Don’t,” Eames says quietly, stepping back.

“I miss you,” One Two says gruffly, obviously as uncomfortable forcing out emotions as ever.

They’ve done this before. Eames has no interest in doing it again. He already knows how the story ends.

“Don’t try and start something we both know you can’t finish.”

One Two smiles at him sagely, saying, “I’m not sure I’m the one we’d have to worry about, not this time.”

Eames makes a strategic retreat to the shower, and doesn’t come out again until he’s sure One Two has gone to sleep.

 **Arthur;**

The next few weeks working with One Two only solidify Arthur’s resolve that he wants to get the man as far away from Eames as possible.

Eames is different around him, muted and at times disconcertingly insecure, not like himself at all, and it makes Arthur want to do something drastic. Like punch One Two in the face or grab Eames and kiss him just as violently.

Maybe both.

Worst of all, Arthur is suddenly unsure about whether such an advance would even be appreciated, let alone returned.

 **Eames;**

There isn’t a great story of betrayal that explains why Eames left. Why he changed his name and gave up the life, why he took every risk that presented itself, went down every back alley and winding road until he eventually ended up half-way across the world, learning how to steal ideas instead of car stereos and con people’s subconscious instead of small time lawyers, back when he was still trying to be a rocknrolla.

It was just life. A few mistakes, a few promises exchanged that couldn’t be kept. A few weeks spent trying to pretend that he and One Two could have something other than friendship, that he could be enough for his friend when he was the wrong sex, the wrong everything.

It wasn’t even as bad as that sounds, really. No one was cruel, no one was out to hurt anyone. It just didn’t work out, and Eames should never have let it get that far anyway. Not when he’d known the whole thing was doomed from the start.

And if that’s what’s holding him back now, stopping him from taking another step closer to Arthur, not even now that Arthur is starting to look like he might actually let him in, well. That isn’t Eames being a coward. That’s just him being smart, learning from past mistakes, making sure history doesn’t repeat itself.

 **Arthur;**

They do as much recon as they can from Paris, compiling woefully limited dossiers on the relevant players, until eventually Arthur is forced to admit defeat.

“We’ve done as much as we can from here. We need to go to London, get a better lay of the land.”

He’s already discussed this with the rest of the team, and they’ve agreed. Even Dom, who hasn’t been willing to take jobs that far away from his children since he finally got them back. But this is for Eames, and there’s been no question among any of them that they’re going to see it through.

This leaves Eames as the deciding vote.

“It might not be safe there,” Eames hedges, probably thinking of Cobb. Maybe of Ariadne.

He knows she hates it, but none of them can help feeling protective of her. But then again, Arthur feels protective of all of them. They’re his team. It’s as close to family as Arthur’s going to get.

“He’s right, it’s going to be a shit show,” One Two warns.

Arthur is annoyed all over again, the way he always is when One Two calls attention to himself, reminding Arthur of his presence.

“We know the risks, we did when we signed on. But if we’re doing this, we have to get closer to the action. And we’ll need to talk to...” Arthur waves a hand. “What was his name?”

Eames smirks at him a little, probably knowing Arthur never forgets a name, but humors him anyway. “Mumbles.”

“Right, Mumbles. Where have you stashed him?”

One Two shrugs. “There’s a safe house of sorts in the country, he’s been staying there.”

Arthur nods decisively. “Fine, that’s where we’ll go first.”

As they pack up, Eames comes up behind, putting a hand on Arthur’s back. It’s the first time he’s touched Arthur in days.

Arthur can’t help but lean into the touch, just a little. He regrets it as soon as he does, though, because it makes Eames pull away, tucking his hands into his pockets, frowning.

“What is it, Eames?” Arthur asks, feeling more tired than he has since he and Dom were living every day on the run.

“Nothing,” Eames says stiffly, turning to walk away.

“Eames,” Arthur calls out to him.

Something in his voice makes Eames stop, and look back at him.

“I just wanted to say...”

“Say what?” Arthur prompts, his voice coming out embarrassingly breathy, soft.

Eames smiles, and it almost looks like his old smile. Arthur is surprised by how much he misses it.

“Thank you.”

Arthur nods.

“Any time.”

 **Eames;**

They take a plane Saito’s kind enough to lend them, and One Two makes a lot of impressed, if mildly condescending, remarks about the benefits of having friends in high places.

“He’s not a friend, he’s a former employer,” Eames says, more than tired of forever having to correct One Two’s rosy assumptions.

“Are you sure about that?” One Two asks, looking skeptical as he wriggles comfortably in his first class seat. “It’s awfully generous for an old business colleague.” Whenever One Two says that word to him, lately, Eames gets the distinct impression he’s being made fun of.

No matter. It’s still the truth.

“Mr. Saito is a very generous man. And we once did him a very large favor. That’s all.”

From across the aisle, Ariadne is quick to contradict him. “Don’t listen to him, One Two,” it hasn’t escaped Eames’ attention that Ariadne takes great delight in saying his name, like it’s a joke she finds funnier every time. “Saito’d do anything for us. Especially Eames, he’s Saito’s favorite.”

“That’s preposterous,” Eames scoffs.

Saito was an excellent tourist and is possibly a great man, if also a power hungry one. But Eames had been nothing more than a means to very profitable end. They all had.

And yet, Ariadne isn’t the only one disagreeing with him. Suddenly, it’s Arthur, too. Of all people.

“She’s right, you know. When we left his employ, Saito made it very clear. Anything he could do for us, any time, he’d see it done.”

“Just because he’s protecting his investment--”

“Not just that, either,” Arthur barrels on, as if Eames hadn’t spoken at all. “He’s tried more than once to hire Eames onto his personal staff, keep a closer eye on him.”

“He certainly has not!” Eames protests. He hasn’t spoken to Saito personally in months.

Arthur just smiles, looking satisfied and possibly a little diabolical, and says, “I said he tried. I never said I let him get close enough to you to succeed.”

One Two laughs, slapping Eames on the back like Arthur has just proved his point, one much larger than whether or not he and Saito are friends, and Eames is forced to sit in silence, fuming uncomfortably for the rest of the plane ride.

 **Arthur;**

When they arrive at the safe house, Mumbles is revealed to be a man at least twice as tall as anyone has a right to be, and when he immediately pulls Eames into a hug, Arthur’s hatred for him is sealed.

He’s the one who got them into this mess, it was his cock-up that pulled Eames back into this life, with these people. It’s his fault Arthur has been forced to endure One Two’s mocking, infuriating presence for the past weeks.

Arthur is working himself up, about ready to do some very unprofessional yelling, when Mumbles suddenly turns his attention away from Eames and onto Arthur.

He looks Arthur over, his gaze measured, calculating, and then, suddenly, his face transforms into a grin.

“Nicely done, Bob,” he says, his voice warm, approving. “He’s quite something.”

Arthur flushes, nails digging into his palms as his hands clench into fists. He’s getting very tired of people discussing his woefully hypothetical relationship with Eames while he’s standing right in front of them.

Behind him, Dom pats Arthur on the shoulder, and then ducks around, getting a look at the room, shaking Mumbles’ hand.

Yusuf and Ariadne keep their hands to themselves, and Arthur likes to think it’s out of solidarity. Ariadne might be vaguely amused by One Two, but Arthur knows he’s not the only one who’s eager to see him gone.

“He’s not Bob, anymore,” One Two says suddenly, surprising Arthur, and, apparently, Eames.

Behind the surprise, Arthur can see Eames is faintly pleased. Somehow, this upsets Arthur even more than ever.

“Oh no?” Mumbles asks, ignoring the way Arthur’s face is growing murderous, despite his best efforts to remain calm.

If they don’t finish this job soon, Arthur is not going to be held responsible for his actions.

“It’s Eames, now,” One Two continues, thumbing in Eames’ direction.

Mumbles pulls a long, thoughtful face, and then nods. “Suits you.”

Eames smiles, but he’s not looking at Mumbles, or at One Two. When he answers, he’s looking at Arthur.

“I like to think so.”

 **Eames;**

He’s been back to London, of course. Work has taken him there, and when One Two’s mother died, he went to the funeral, he just watched from across the street instead of joining the other mourners.

So it’s not as if this is his first time coming home. But still, standing with One Two and Mumbles for the first time in six years, it almost feels that way.

He’d be worried, tempted to give into the nostalgic comfort of their presence, if it wasn’t for Arthur, lurking disapprovingly behind them, reminding Eames of where he truly belongs.

 **Arthur;**

Things go much more smoothly once they’ve teamed up with Mumbles, who proves, somewhat ironically, far more capable of producing clear and accurate information than One Two.

They spend a few days doing surveillance, helped along in large part by the job Ariadne is able to obtain working in one of the smaller and more exclusive underground clubs. One of the men after Mumbles becomes quite taken with her, and she gets enough information off him in between serving his drinks that after a week, Arthur feels they’re ready to go into the dream.

The plan is to go into Ariadne’s mark’s head, convince him she’s finally succumb to his wiles and see what shakes loose. Hopefully, their intel is right, and he’s a major enough player to give them something big they can leverage against the rest of Mumbles’ ex-associates and get the price off his head.

Arthur isn’t crazy about using Ariadne like this, but as both she and Eames point out, none of them have ever been above objectifying Eames in that manner, so really, who is he to complain?

Besides, Ariadne isn’t going in alone. She’ll have Cobb for back-up, and to do the extraction itself. It’s his specialty, after all.

He’s the only one of them left, anyway, since even Eames has too big a chance of being recognized, and also because Eames has banned Arthur from the dream.

Evidently he doesn’t think Arthur can be trusted to control himself while he’s under.

“I’ll have you know I am _perfectly_ in control,” Arthur retorts when Eames is done patiently explaining why Arthur isn’t being allowed within 10 feet of the PASIV.

Eames just nods, humoring Arthur, and says, “Course you are, love.”

Arthur crosses his arms, and very deliberately avoids One Two’s laughing, knowing look.

 **Eames;**

Ariadne and Cobb get what they came for. Apparently there’s just enough double dealing going on that Mumbles is able to decimate most of the operation by spreading a few of the best secrets they uncover to the right people.

After weeks of preparation, it’s all over in a flash, tied up so abruptly that Eames is almost sure the other shoe has yet to drop, but when they linger a few more days to be safe, the chaos that unfolds is enough to finally convince him that Mumbles is the least of anyone’s concern, these days.

They all go out for drinks to celebrate, back through all the old wild bunch haunts. Arthur keeps his distance all night, barely even looking at Eames.

Eames gives up trying to engage Arthur and focuses on One Two and Mumbles instead, finally catching up on the parts of their lives that aren’t covered by hired goons and shady deals. It’s a good night, a surprisingly painless walk down memory lane, and when Eames looks up at the end of the evening and realizes Arthur has left without saying anything, he tries his best to quash his disappointment.

He knew it was coming, after all. Knew that the end of the job would mean the end of Arthur’s heightened interest in him, his possessiveness amounting to little more than protecting his investment in Eames, in (as?) the best forger and thief in the business.

Eames sighs, and goes back to his conversation with One Two and Mumbles, trying to forget the fiercely proprietary look that had been in Arthur’s eyes the last few weeks.

That Arthur is gone, now, and Eames had just as well start getting used to it.

 **Arthur;**

They’ve been staying at the safe house with Mumbles, so none of them have hotel rooms in the city. Which means that Arthur doesn’t actually have anywhere else to go once he leaves the bar in order to prevent himself from grabbing any one who so much as looked at Eames by the throat and instructing them to turn their attentions elsewhere.

In the end, he calls Cobb, because at the very least, he’s not walking all the way back to the house on his own.

Cobb doesn’t even laugh at Arthur when he picks up the phone, and Arthur considers this the mark of true friendship.

“You’re true blue, Dom,” he says, slurring his words a little despite himself.

It’s possible Arthur is just a little bit drunk.

Probable, even.

Dom _does_ laugh, then, but there’s enough fondness in his voice that Arthur decides not to hold it against him. Besides, Dom promises to come get him soon, and Arthur figures that makes them even.

Especially when Dom doesn’t even complain after Arthur throws up in the back seat when they’re halfway there.

 **Eames;**

He finally leaves the pub around four, despite protests from the whole crowd.

Mumbles and One Two follow him out.

They stand together, just the three of them, the way it used to be, the way Eames had once thought it always would be.

It’s only as they’re saying goodbye that Eames finally admits to himself that he’s missed them, but as much as he has, he’s glad for his new life, and he’s even glad they’re not a part of it.

As if he’s spoken aloud, Mumbles claps Eames on the shoulder and says, “You look good, you know. Better. I always knew there was more for you than all this.”

Eames chuckles. “This wasn’t so bad, in its day. I had my share of fun.”

“You were the wildest of us all,” Mumbles agrees and there’s a note in his voice that sounds like a blessing, sounds like goodbye.

“Go on then, Bob, for old time’s sake,” One Two cuts in suddenly, and then he’s hugging Eames, tight and fast, letting him go again almost before Eames can hug him back.

“I keep telling you, mate, it’s Eames. I’m not Handsome Bob anymore.”

One Two grins. “I’d compromise and call you Handsome Eames, if I thought your Arthur’s blood pressure could stand it.”

Eames shakes his head. “He’s not my Arthur.”

One Two just smiles, and that too looks like goodbye.

“Maybe not yet, but he will be.”

 **Arthur;**

They all fly back to Paris together the next day, and Arthur quietly nurses a hangover and tries not to let his relief that Eames has actually decided to come back with them show too clearly on his face.

As usual, these days, he’s not sure he succeeds.

Once they land, Arthur has to try very hard not simply grab Eames by the scruff of the neck and back him up against the nearest available surface.

After they’ve waited this long, Arthur thinks they both deserve better than that. But he wants. Oh, he wants.

He changes his mind about waiting when Arthur catches Eames trying to sneak surreptitiously out of sight as soon as his feet hit the tarmac.

Arthur is still only halfway down the stairs, but his voice carries well enough when he orders, “Don’t even think about it,” making Eames stop in his tracks.

“Problem, darling?” Eames asks, grinning at him with would-be innocence.

Arthur rolls his eyes and finishes catching up, waving distractedly to the rest of their team as they head towards one of the cars Saito has left waiting for them.

Once it’s just the two of them, Arthur can’t stop himself from reaching out, curling a hand around Eames’ neck, pulling him closer.

Eames lets himself be drawn in, just not quite as far as Arthur’d like, their lips remaining a few agonizing inches apart. Arthur can’t help but lick his lips, watching in satisfaction as Eames’ eyes darken, and then Eames sucks his own lip in between his teeth, making Arthur shiver.

“Arthur,” Eames says warningly, trying to pull back. Arthur keeps his hand firmly against Eames’ neck, keeping him where he is.

Eames sighs. “This isn’t a good idea, and I should know. I’ve been down this road before.”

“Not with me you haven’t.”

Eames sighs. “I’m not going anywhere, Arthur. You don’t have to--”

“I _want_ to!”

Eames doesn’t look like he believes Arthur, and so Arthur does the only thing he can think of to convince Eames, slamming their mouths together, invading Eames’ mouth with his tongue, kissing Eames until his head is swimming, until his hands are shaking, until he’s dangerously close to coming in his pants.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you,” Arthur admits with breathless honesty. He would grind a little against Eames for effect, if he wasn’t reasonably sure that would result in something remarkably embarrassing and adolescent.

Eames just stares at him, face slack from surprise, and hopefully lust, and Arthur can’t help but kiss him again, softer this time, nipping at the bottom of Eames’ lip the way he’s always wanted to, the way he’s imagined a hundred times.

“I’ve always wanted you,” he adds, just so they’re clear. “It just took me awhile to be ready to admit it.”

Eames nods, still looking dazed, and he reaches out, running an experimental thumb against Arthur’s jaw. Arthur leans into it, smiling.

“You’re mine now, my Eames,” Arthur says, letting the triumph fill his voice.

Eames nods, looking more clear headed now, and says, “I always was.”


End file.
